Chance Encounters
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: Eavesdroppers seldom hear anything good of Claire stumbles across Roderick and Louise; continuation of the 'Friends with Benefits'


**Summary**: Eavesdroppers seldom hear anything good of themselves.

**Author's Note:** This is a companion piece to _Friends with Benefits_, set some weeks after that story's conclusion.

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"Claire Matthews."

She had been heading towards the bathroom when she heard someone call out her name. She froze, and by instinct felt her body getting ready to run, even as she struggled to discover where the voice had come from. She looked around, but there was no one in the hallway. There was no one waiting for her; there were hardly even any rooms nearby where the voice might've called out to her from.

"Look at me, Roderick. Don't pretend like you can't hear what I'm saying. I am _talking _to you."

Claire's body seized at his name, but when her heart sped up it was in fear for the woman she could hear speaking. Did she have any idea who she was talking to; any idea of what he would do to her if she offended him?

"What do you want, Louise?"

He wasn't speaking to her—he wasn't even, as far as she could tell, in the same hallway as her—but his voice cut through to Claire like the blade of the knife he'd needlessly threatened her with so many times.

"_What do you want, Claire? Hm? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."_

She shut her eyes, forcibly shoving the memory away as she moved a few steps further down the hall in the direction of the voices. The woman's voice was easy to follow—loud, and sounding worrisomely angry—and again, Claire couldn't help but fear for her safety. _Does she know who she's talking to at _all_?_

"What I want, Roderick, is for you to tell me just what you think you're doing with her."

Though she knew she it put her in danger of being discovered, Claire couldn't hold back the gasp filled her mouth at that woman's words. And despite knowing the very real threat Roderick posed better than nearly anyone, she couldn't ask for this woman to walk away. _Not if she knew._

Until this very moment, Claire had never thought anyone at the mansion had noticed what was happening to her—and never in her wildest imaginings had she ever dreamed that someone might _care, _especially enough to confront her attacker on her behalf_._

She crept closer to the door she now knew they must be conversing behind, hoping to get a look at her would-be savior. Through the inches-wide crack between the door and its frame, she could just see the woman's slender frame, and her straight, pulled-back blonde hair. _She looks small, _Claire couldn't help but think, torn between fear for the woman and what Roderick would do to her and fear for herself if she were to step in and try to stop it. _She looks so small._

"_What I'm doing with her,_" Roderick quoted the woman lazily—clearly uninterested in the conversation—but Claire could still hear a mocking sharpness to his tone that told her he wasn't fond of this discussion for more reasons than that it bored him. "Am I supposed to know what you're referring to, Louise?"

Claire bit down hard on her lower lip as she listened to him speak, willing herself to stay still and stay quiet. Unconsciously, she found herself wrapping her arms around her body, rubbing her hands against her still sore, and yet unblemished, wrists. Her ankles still ached.

"You better know what I'm referring to." The woman—Louise—spoke so nonchalantly that the laughter that followed from Roderick was not surprising. It still made Claire nervous to hear, because she knew how he didn't like being taunted. And just because he was laughing did not mean that he was having a good time. "Unless you have some secret twin who's been sneaking off in the middle of the night…" Claire watched Louise smirk as she added, "And if you do, introduce me to him. I think we'd get along just fine."

It was silent for a long time after that. Roderick didn't reply and Louise didn't speak again. And after a few seconds, the blonde even stepped away—enough so that Claire was no longer able to see her through the crack in the door—and Claire considered stepping back herself and walking away. If that was all this conversation was going to amount to… Well, she could puzzle out their cryptic, mysterious exchange in another location—preferably one a little less Roderick-filled.

But then he spoke and—as always—his voice seemed to freeze every atom in her body, injecting even more fear into a person who felt much more scared than she had ever felt safe.

"So you know."

She could feel her heart beating quickly again, as it had when she'd first discovered them, and her mind flew as she tried to reconcile these words with all that had already been said.

She heard Louise sigh, and she could hear the impatience in the blonde's voice when she replied: "Yes, Roderick. _I know_."

Claire stood frozen for a moment, the thought slowly making its way through her brain. It took longer than usual to plant itself there, but then she realized what Louise was saying, realized what she _knew_—and suddenly, she couldn't get the normal amount of air through her mouth and into her lungs. She couldn't think quick enough to make the connections. She couldn't understand how or when or—

"I know what you do with her. I've seen you sneak off in the night, seen you walking around when you think everyone else is asleep. Well, _I_ haven't been asleep, Roderick. I've watched you walk the halls at night and I've listened at the door and I've _heard_ what you've done with her."

Claire almost couldn't hear Louise speak over the pounding of her own heart. The pounding was all she could hear—in her head, in her ears—it was, apart from Louise's quiet voice—the only sound in the entire world.

Adrenaline was racing through her veins before she was even sure why it was there. But then heard her own breathing, felt the dizziness in her head, and she knew: _I'm terrified._

Someone knew—this woman Louise _knew_—and that terrified her. If Louise knew, who else knew? Did Joe know?

Her heart pumped out a fast rhythm, and when roughly translated, it told her, _He's going to kill her, He's going to kill her, He's going to kill her. _Because he was—he was going to kill her—here, now; he was going to kill this woman just because she knew about what he'd done to her, just because she'd been there all those nights where Claire had felt nothing but terribly, horribly, inconsolably alone.

_He's going to kill her._

She knew that for a fact, and a second later, she knew the rest, too:

_And then he's going to come back for me. And he's not going to kill me. He's never going to kill me. He'll just keep coming back and coming back and coming back and he'll never leave…_

She could think of nothing else except the sure-to-be-gruesome death that awaited this woman and the torture in her own future, and she was spiraling down through the silence, caught up in the pounding of her heart and the quickness of her breath, until—

"So now that you know… What are you going to do about it?" Roderick spoke in a measured, controlled manner, but behind that, Claire could hear him straining, hear the anger bubbling to the surface. She wondered how hard it was for him to hold off this long on snapping Louise's neck. He was not a patient man. She had learned that very quickly.

Despite knowing she would soon be witnessing a murder, she crept closer; she had to hear this. She didn't care how near she was to Roderick anymore, or how easily both he and Louise would spot her if one of them moved towards the door—_she had to hear this._

"I'm going to offer you an ultimatum," Louise began, her tone surprisingly business-like. When Claire got past her disbelief that Louise had the confidence to speak to him like that, she was actually impressed. And more than a little envious. Roderick had taken all of her confidence and courage away a long time ago.

"Oh, you are?" Roderick laughed quietly. "And what is that?" Claire could hear the amusement laced throughout his voice, and it sickened her to think of what he was doing to her the last time he sounded like that, and so she focused on this moment instead of remembering.

She regretted doing so immediately.

"Either you start letting me in on all the fun, or I'm going to Joe."

For nearly half a minute, Claire stood still, not understanding. _What did she just say? What? _Her body understood the threat before her mind did, however, and she could feel the fear, the adrenaline, seeping into her bloodstream even as her mind raced to catch up. Roderick's replying laughter to Louise's ultimatum washed over Claire to meet her silence, as it always had. And for this one moment in time, she did not fear him at all.

"Excuse me?" he questioned, still laughing, and clearly enjoying himself. "You want me to—_what?_"

"I want you to _share_, Roderick." Louise's voice was firm, instructive, before turning condescending: "You remember the concept, don't you? It's just like Mommy and Daddy taught you when you were little—_share your toys._"

"No." The firmness, the barely-concealed anger in his tone would have made Claire physically back down in a second, but Louise didn't retreat in any sense of the word. Instead, she stepped forward to him. Claire's wide eyes tracked her movements, tracked her suggestive smile and cutting eyes as she neared the man Claire was certain could kill her with one blow.

"Unless you want me to go to Joe, Roderick…" Louise's smile widened—for she knew as well as Claire did (and Claire knew it painfully, deeply in her bones)—that Louise was going to win. She remembered, as if from decades ago, thinking this woman was going to be her savior. "I would pass your little plaything along, if I were you."

But Roderick snorted, dismissing her threat. "Go to Joe," he encouraged happily. Arrogance soured his tone as he added, "Like he would ever believe _you_."

Louise's nose wrinkled slightly at the snub, but she rebounded quickly.

"Oh, something tells me he would…" Louise smile was back in place—somehow she was still confident enough not to back down—but Claire no longer appreciated her headstrongness. She appreciated nothing about the woman, in fact. "Slap a few tears out of Claire Matthews and she'll sing like a birdie." She added matter-of-factly, "She'll push you under the bus in a second after what you've done."

Roderick shook his head. "No, she won't."

Louise folded her arms, regarding Roderick in silence for a minute. When she was unable to puzzle him out, she asked, sounding almost human in her confusion, "What could you _possibly_ have over her that would keep her quiet? Have I missed something; do you have that little brat of hers chained up somewhere?" When Roderick didn't answer immediately, her voice grew shrill, demanding. "What _is it_, Roderick?"

"That's between her and I, Louise."

"But not me?" the blonde woman challenged, and Claire could swear she almost heard a hint of jealousy in her voice. "I'm your partner, and you're hiding things from me. When have we ever hid things from one another?"

"This does not concern you, Louise."

"Yeah, you went to great lengths to ensure that would be true, didn't you?" she snapped. Claire jumped when her voice suddenly rose to a shout: "You went _out of your way _to make sure no one—"

"Lower your voice," Roderick interrupted darkly.

She glared at him, her lips pursed, before replying, "No, I don't think I will." Screaming now, she continued, "I THINK I'LL SHOUT IT FOR EVERYONE TO HEAR. BECAUSE I BELIEVE _EVERYONE _NEEDS TO KNOW THAT YOU'VE BEEN _SCREWING_—"

Her voice was cut off so abruptly, at first Claire was certain he'd shot her. But then she realized she'd never heard a gunshot—not even a _pop!_—and she knew something else had to have happened. _He does always seem to be carrying a knife, _she though to herself.

But then she heard a desperate throat gasp for the air it was being denied, and she had her answer.

_He's going to kill her._

The though raced through her brain again, and she knew it now as truth more than she ever had before.

And despite all she'd heard the woman say, she couldn't help but want to save Louise. The woman was insane—maybe just as insane as Roderick—but she didn't deserve to die like this.

No one deserved to be murdered by him.

She had nearly half a mind to open the door and walk in to stop all this when she heard Louise's strangled voice escape between his changes in pressure around her neck, and Claire was no longer certain the madwoman was worth saving. "Is—this—what you do with—_her_?" she gasped, using every breath he gave her to taunt him, throwing what might be considered charity back in his face. "Huh? Does she like it?"

Quicker than Claire would've expected, Roderick let go of her, simultaneously shoving her away, almost the entire way across the room. Louise was just as quick, though, and her small frame made her agile. She had recovered to a standing position after being thrown like a gymnast would recover from a stunt, and looked no worse for the wear. "Tell me…" She grinned, barely having to catch her breath as she stood up straight again. "Did I hit a nerve, Roderick?"

He ignored her, and turned away, but she didn't let up.

"Oh, what?" Louise called after him. "Don't tell me little Miss Matthews doesn't like to play along with your games! Hell, what good is she, then?" She had a grin on her face, but it soon slipped off, and her tone returned to its usual cool and collected nature. "But be honest with me, Roderick—is the wife really as boring in bed as she looks? Because she looks about as vanilla as they come—though," she muttered, half to herself, "I suppose that's the reason Joe bothered marrying her in the first place. Ward off suspicion, and all that." Louise sighed then, but even Claire knew it was a feint. Even Claire—who could only see half of her face—could see the excitement lighting up her eye as she challenged, "I bet I could make the wife scream, even if you can't." Her smile was much too wide when she grinned, "Give me two minutes with her."

"I'm not giving you anything with her."

"Why not?" Louise smirked. "Are you nervous, hm?" she teased. Her voice fell to a hush, but lost none of its mocking edge: "Are you worried I'll be able to make her bleed quicker than you? Or that if _I _tie her up and spank her, she'll actually _like it_?"

Roderick didn't reply. Or, if he did, Claire couldn't hear it over the sound of her own blood pulsing in her ears. She was no longer confident that Roderick would be able to keep this woman at bay if she decided to come after her, and that realization horrified her.

"Oh, come on, don't sulk, Roderick! We can do it together, just like old times! It'll be _fun_!" She smiled—almost kindly—as she commented, "It's been too long since we've had someone new to play with, you know." Roderick didn't say a word in reply, and so she came up behind him and wrapped her hands around his shoulders to capture his attention. She massaged them in silence before whispering in his ear, "Share your toys, Roderick. Come on, you know you want to." She rested her chin on his shoulder. "I promise I'll play nice with your little china doll."

Roderick repeated nothing more than his single syllable answer this time, but the firmness and latent anger in his tone closed the subject once and for all: _"No."_

Claire watched with bated breath, not sure if she should feel gratitude to Roderick or dread of what he would do to her next. She knew he would not forget this argument with Louise, not until he was able to reaffirm his alpha-male status… Claire could tell Louise wouldn't be giving him that—not now, at least—and so she knew he would be coming to her. The only question was _How soon…_?

As she wondered, she watched Louise's arms drop from his shoulders, watched her step away and scoff in disgust. "You've gotten so selfish these past few months," she accused crossly, circling behind him as if she was a stage actor getting ready to deliver a monologue. When she paused to think about it, Claire supposed all these people _were_ actors, in a sense. Louise was a very good one. "It seems like ever since things have starting coming together for us—for _everyone_—things have been falling apart for you. You're angrier, unhappier… You act like some enormous crime has been committed, but Roderick—_nothing's wrong!_ Joe is here and we are _moving forward_, and unless you want to get left behind…" She shrugged. "You better jump on board fast."

Claire had only just resumed regular breathing when Roderick spun around. She jumped at his quick movement—again, holding her breath by force of habit—and instinctually shrank away from the door as he advanced closer to Louise—further into the center of the room—and closer to her. "Is there something you're trying to tell me, Louise?" Claire could hear the death threat in his voice, and once again—despite knowing where Louise's true allegiances lay—she couldn't help but fear for the woman.

But Louise didn't back down or flinch as she delivered the final blow; she didn't even hesitate: "Joe isn't pleased with your change in behavior, Roderick." She crossed her arms. "And neither am I, for that matter."

"If Joe isn't pleased with me, I would hope he would come and tell me himself."

"Most likely he will," Louise responded matter-of-factly. She paused. "But think about it, Roderick. Do you want to let this go unchecked, and run the risk of him walking in on you fucking his wife?" She smirked, but then added gravely, "Don't make the mistake of thinking he'll keep you around like he does Hardy. If he finds out—"

"_If,"_ Roderick stressed. His tone of voice suggested that it was never going to come to a _'when._'

"Yes," Louise repeated, undeterred, "_if. If _he finds out—"

"He is not going to find out," Roderick interrupted.

"You say that now…"

Roderick stepped forward, stepped up to her, and now they were only a couple inches apart as he wondered, "Are you threatening to tell on me, Louise?" His hand rose, and he trailed his fingers down the side of her face before clamping his hand down over her throat. "You should remember that no one likes a little tattletale. Especially the person the snitch runs to."

She grinned, even though Claire could see her start to fidget as he began tightening his grip on her neck. "And no one likes a homewrecker, either," she replied. "Least of all the loving husband who's being cheated on." She lifted her head, trying to elongate her neck, and even from across the room, Claire could hear her start to struggle for breath. Still, Louise didn't stop smiling. "So," she bit out, "what are you going to do? You think you can keep me quiet like you kept Claire Matthews? You think all it takes is a lame fuck and I won't say a word?"

Roderick smiled at her, bringing his face to her level, his lips within kissing distance of hers. When he licked his lips, his tongue just barely touched hers. Louise closed her eyes, and for a moment while her body shook, Claire thought he was killing her. But then she realized the blonde was shuddering—with nothing short of complete lust.

"Well," Roderick began quietly, "I wouldn't say it takes a _lame _fuck… No, nothing's ever lame—not with you, at least." When he smiled, she did too, and as much as she wanted to, Claire couldn't look away from their mirror, sick expressions. It was like watching the most gruesome car crash she'd ever witness. "To be honest, Louise, I was thinking I'd be able to keep you quiet with nothing more than the right attention."

If Claire had blinked, she would've missed it. She would've missed the way Louise's lips devoured his the second he let go of her neck, missed the way his hands fisted in her hair so tightly they actually pulled it out, missed the way her nails scratched his skin so sharply that they left marks behind. But she didn't blink, couldn't blink, and so she saw it all.

She saw it all up until the moment Roderick threw Louise into the nearest wall, and then she ran.

.

She was already down the hall and into another one, but she could still hear them. Hear them talking, hear them laughing, hear them groaning and kissing and—

Oh, god, she could feel his hand closing around her own neck when she'd watched him strangle Louise, and it brought back horrendous memories. Memories formed in the dead of night that she so hoped, once daylight arrived, would become nothing more than nightmares.

But they weren't nightmares; they were memories. And they flooded her now, overwhelming her—she could feel his hands on her neck, his lips on her body, his tongue in her—

"Oh!" She gasped, the wind knocked out of her as she felt her body slam into—another body. "Joe," she choked out. "Thank god," she breathed before she'd even realized what she was saying. Claire watched his eyes light up at her enthusiastic greeting, but she didn't take it back.

"Claire, hello." He smiled, holding lightly onto her forearms as he steadied her. "Are you all right?" he asked, bending towards her with concern when he saw the fear she'd been wearing on her face when she'd run into him hadn't faded. "You look absolutely terrified by something."

"I—"

She had been about to answer when a breathy scream, followed by what sounded like the grunt of an animal, sounded down from the hallway she'd just exited.

Joe closed his eyes. "Ah..." He smiled, shaking his head as he led her down the hall and away from the noise. "Those two can get quite, um… _explosive_. Don't worry, it's all consensual… But you might want to move to the other part of the house for a little while." He laughed quietly—and maybe expected her to, too—for when she stopped and stared at him, he looked for confused than she'd ever seen him.

"Joe," she whispered.

He turned, the faint smile that had been turning up his lips now disappearing as he looked into her eyes. "Does it really bother you that much? I can send them away, I will, if—"

_Can you send him away?_ The question was on the tip of Claire's tongue, and she had to clamp her mouth shut and turn her head away to keep it in. She forced the thought deep down into her being, down where it could never be unearthed, or spoken, or ever again even _thought._

She had learned the truth more concisely today than she ever had in all the past months of drawn-out torture: Roderick got off on pain and suffering—be it his own or another's. It did not matter who got hurt, as long as someone did.

And he would never leave her, not even if she bored him. Because what she gave him—hate and fear and disgust were enough. Even if she held in the tears and the sobs and never looked at him ever again, he would know what she was thinking. He would feel how her body didn't want him, how her entire being loathed him and prayed for his death, and that was enough to last him forever. To make him keep coming and coming and coming…

She swallowed the terror rising in her and forced herself to be normal for Joe. "No, you don't… You don't need to send them anywhere." She gathered what little strength was left in her and asked, speaking the words she'd never once thought she'd have to voice aloud, "But can I… Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

He stared at her in awe—his mouth actually hanging slightly open for a few seconds—before he composed himself. "You, You want to, then?" he asked, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized that he was nervous. Of her. "You want to…?" He trailed off without saying it, as if trying to avoid a jinx by vocalizing exactly _what _they were talking about. "You really want to?"

_God, no. Never. Never, ever again._ "Yes." She closed her eyes, and then forced herself to open them again, and look at him. "Please," she added, because she knew he would never deny her if she asked nicely.

He smiled in reply, murmuring a quiet assurance she only half-heard. Roderick and Louise's conversation still filled her ears.

"Are you busy today?" she hurried to ask, not wanting to be left alone even during the daylight hours anymore—not if they did _that _during the day. "Can I—Can I stay with you? If," she rushed to add, always nervous to offend, "only if I wouldn't be in the way."

"You're never in the way," Joe replied at once, "and of course you can accompany me." He smiled faintly, and then moved to walk away, but just before he stepped out, he turned back to her. "Are you really that bothered by those two?" he wondered, concern etching lines into his face. Before Claire could answer, he assured her, "You shouldn't be. Louise and Roderick are… kindred spirits, in a way. I know it may seem strange to you at first, but they're better with each other, I believe." He looked over at her, his dark gaze drinking her in before as he added quietly, "Just like you and I."

Claire blinked at him, struggling to swallow back every smart retort that came to mind. _Be polite, _she reminded herself again and again. When he held out his hand—offering it to her, not forcing, she couldn't help but notice—she took it.

"You're wearing your ring," he noted quietly, almost solemnly, as he looked down at their joined hands.

"Yes," she replied weakly, not having anything else to say. She bit her tongue so as to help her refrain from adding that she took it off whenever she was alone—be it for five seconds while she was in the bathroom or for five hours while she slept. She had made an enemy out of Louise today and she did _not _need to add Joe to the list as well. _Be polite, _she coached herself again, hoping that if she acted the part of a good wife, he would do the same as a husband.

But in her heart, she knew it was hopeless. The real him was always there, lurking, waiting, biding his time. Joe, like Roderick, would only show her his true nature when he was good and ready.

And until then, they'd all play nice, and have their fun together.

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_o_

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_Seven devils all around me_

_Seven devils in my house_

_See, they were there when I woke up this morning_

_And I'll be dead before the day is done. _

_Seven devils all around you_

_Seven devils in your house_

_See, I was dead when I woke up this morning,_

_And I'll be dead before the day is done._

_._

_o_

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**Author's Note: **So… Hit me up in the reviews. I want to hear every opinion you wanna throw at me.


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